The Price of Vengeance
by MeowSap
Summary: What does it take to break Raven of his lust for revenge? Rated T for violence in Chapter 1


Guess what? This is my second multi-chapter story! This time, there will be...(drumroll)...THREE chapters! Yeah...amazing, isn't it... Anyway, this is the first time I will NOT write romance (but I was thinking earlier, and I _might _add some implied Erk x Priscilla.) It's also the first time I've tried a battle scene type thing. I've done it before in my "original" stories, but I don't know if I did well. I kinda want some advice if I'm not doing so well.

**Disclaimer: I don't own FE. Meaning the characters, countries, and that one little segment I stole from Raven/Priscilla's A support. Yep.**

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**The Price of Vengeance**

**Chapter 1: An Exception to the Promise**

Another enemy fell to his steel blade.

Raven wiped the cold perspiration from his forehead. "_This is a tough battle_," he thought, squinting his tired eyes in an attempt to peer through the thick darkness.

The group of fighters had only been awake for ten minutes. The Black Fang had pushed its forces into Badon in the middle of the night. All was silent in the lowly seaport; not a single commoner stirred from his house. The gracious moon shed its pale light upon the town, allowing at least _some_ visibility. A ghostly atmosphere developed as the group shivered in the chilly winds. They were still, frozen almost, as they awaited the sound or sight of an enemy. Potential ambush forced the allies to be vigilant and cautious; the enemy could be anywhere while hiding behind the shield of darkness.

The strategy for this battle required the stronger units to stay in the front while the weaker units lingered behind. The enemy normally attacked in waves. A horde of cavaliers, wyvern riders, and monks advanced, and when they were slain, a silence pervaded the dark town. Anxious, they would listen for the stir of wyvern wings or the footsteps of soldiers until the next wave approached.

Raven, being one of the stronger members, was positioned towards the front of the tightly packed group. He had the "privilege" of fighting near the Ostian lord, Hector. Raven frowned as he set his cold glare on the lord's back. "_I promised my sister, Priscilla…I told her I would not take my revenge_," he reminded himself, trying to dispel his vengeful desires.

The sound of heavy footsteps entered his ears, interrupting his thoughts. He looked to his left. A sneaky bandit was passing a large coliseum, intending to attack one of the weaker fighters. Tightening his grip on the hilt of his sword, Raven dashed after the brawny foe, driving his thick blade through the man's back and cruelly ripping it out again. When the twitching body collapsed, Raven planted his sword through the fallen bandit, finalizing his death. Sighing, he ran his calloused fingers though his carmine hair.

Suddenly, he flinched when noisy hoof-beats knocked against the cobblestone road; an enemy cavalier must be behind him! He whirled around quickly, expecting to see an armored man jabbing a poisonous lance at him. "Oh, it's you…," he muttered, concealing his relief by his unimpressed tone.

"Are you all right, Lord Brother?" asked the soft voice. His younger sister, Priscilla, observed him with her forest-green eyes as she slowly approached on her tan horse. "Are you hurt?"

"No, Priscilla, I am fine," he stated bluntly, looking away. "Besides, I have a vulnerary and an antitoxin; I'll be ok."

"Well…just tell me if you do need my help," she said. A sweet smile lit her face. "I--"

A giant wyvern landed before Lord Hector and his comrade, Oswin. The creature's appearance startled Priscilla, who decided she was too close to the front lines. The hideous beast emitted a low growl as his rider thrust his lance at Oswin, barely making a dent in the knight's solid orange armor. "Return to the back, Priscilla. You need to stay out of danger," Raven added hurriedly, dismissing the scarlet-haired troubadour.

Raven rejoined the front lines after he ensured his sister's safety, witnessing the defeat of the colossal wyvern. The beast retreated with a groan when a mighty blow felled his master. Hector and Oswin grinned victoriously, though never quite dropping their guard during their satisfaction.

"Front lines, advance!" the intelligent tactician, Mark, yelled from the behind, pointing his index finger towards the ancient coliseum. "Let's push the enemy back!"

New enemies emerged from the darkness, and the chaos of battle proceeded. Three cavaliers clad in protective red armor stormed towards them, stabbing the allies with their poisonous weapons. Fortunately, the blows were weak, though still harmful as the poison sucked their energy. The strong warriors defeated them with ease.

The enemy organized a new attack. Bandits and monks flooded through one of the northern paths, charging upon the weak mages and healers positioned at the very end of the path. The tactician smacked his forehead while muttering a curse as he realized the major flaw in his strategic plot. The healers fled to a brick wall far from the action, leaving the more durable magicians to handle the problem. A dancing fire temporarily lit the surroundings as Erk, the purple-haired mage, assaulted the enemies from afar. Mark called to the front lines again; for some reason, he always relied on brute strength to win the tough battles.

A few more short skirmishes occurred before the second wave of foes diminished. The tactician commanded them to halt at the entrance of the coliseum as the healers worked their magic on the injured. (This time, of course, he made sure that the weaker units stayed out of danger.)

As the troops rested, some with minor wounds, Raven scanned the area for new enemies. "_Something is nearby_," he predicted silently.

His crimson eyes locked on a cluster of shrubby trees near the side of the coliseum. An archer, camouflaged by the night, carefully set an arrow to his short bow. He seemed to be aiming for Hector. Raven smirked. "_Hector has thick armor…he'll be fine._"

Deep in his heart, however, he wished the arrow would wound the lord simply because he could not take revenge himself. He _knew_ that was what he wanted. "_It is because of Ostia that my parents were killed…Ostia murdered them…It is all their fault; Lord Hector is heir, now--_"

He instantly recalled the promise he made to his sister. "_…Revenge is all I have lived for, but…now, I have given that up._"

He remembered the thankful and relieved expression on her serene face as he said those words. Was he willing to break that vow? Sweat dripped from his cheeks as he pondered whether he should kill the archer or not.

"Spread out, everyone! We can win this battle if we just eliminate the rest of our opposition!" Mark cried once again.

Despite his brief convictions, Mark's orders rang clearly in his mind. Raven decided to focus upon the battle instead of his petty feelings. He could not afford to give up a chance like this, not when everything could work perfectly!

Raven was instructed to take the northern path, which would cause him to pass the archer. Keeping his eyes glued before him in order to avoid guilt, he proceeded, disregarding the enemy hidden amongst the trees.

A wyvern rider and a monk were the only Black Fang left in the northern section of the town. The monk spotted the mercenary, immediately waving his right hand while reciting ancient words. A burst of bright light exploded before Raven, temporarily blinding him and stinging his skin as if a thousand needles pricked him all at once. He staggered for a moment, but he easily recovered. He charged the fragile monk, landing a massive fatal blow to the man's robed chest.

Just as the monk fell, the wyvern rider made his strike. Raven jumped to his right, hoping to dodge the poison-tipped lance. His left shoulder received damage, blood seeping through his sapphire jacket. He stumbled to the ground; the poison instantly took its effect. The swordfighter gradually felt weakened as the dangerous fluid spread throughout his body. The scaly wyvern bared its sharp teeth, as if grinning in appeasement. Panting as he stood, Raven returned two swift attacks, but the sturdy rider only attained minor wounds.

Nudged by the spurs of his master's boots, the wyvern launched into the sky. Its powerful wings beat against the cool air, soaring higher to prepare another attack. Suddenly, a terrifying screech came from its mouth, and the creature plummeted to the ground. A long ballista arrow protruded from the wyvern's solid chest, which was covered by its blood. A gurgling hiss marked the beast's final breath. The rider must have been crushed by his mount. Raven did not care to check; the puddle of red blood was enough to tell him that.

Raven expelled a heavy sigh, thankful that he could finally rest. He cleaned his crimson sword with a spare cloth, sheathing his trusty blade when he finished. Putting his hand into a leather pouch on his belt, he retrieved two small vials, one vulnerary and one antitoxin. Muttering a comment about the foul taste of the medicine, he took a sip of each, feeling much better when the pain ceased.

As he began his return to the main group, a weak yell cut the silence. "Lord Raven!"

Raven looked up to see Lucius running towards him, blonde hair rapidly flying behind him. He was obviously distraught by the expression on his normally peaceful face. "Lucius, calm down. Has the battle been won?" he asked when his friend stood before him, gasping for breath.

"Yes, we have won. But, Lord Raven…"

"Out with it, Lucius," Raven demanded impatiently, arms folded across his chest.

"Your sister, Lady Priscilla…she's…she's been wounded by a poisonous arrow…"

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Please R&R (though I don't really like that phrase...)I like reviews. A lot. And I like constructive criticism even more. Anyhoo...please note the _spiritual_ genre if you are curious to see where this is going. 


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